


A Little Help From My Friends

by Parasaur



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Mage Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Masturbation, Secret Relationship, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension, plot is weak this is about the sexual tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 13:57:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16097039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Parasaur/pseuds/Parasaur
Summary: The Inner Circle competes to get Cullen and Gemma Trevelyan to admit their feelings to each other. However, Cullen and Gemma are so sure that their feelings are unrequited and are so scared of defaming the inquisition that nobody's winning and everybody is suffering under the sexual tension.





	1. Girls' Night at Wicked Grace

**Author's Note:**

> Cullen sees Gemma naked after she loses all her clothes at Wicked Grace. Tension ensues

Josephine had brought a fine vintage of Antivan wine, and _ooh_ it was good. Gemma drank a couple goblets too many and her skill in cards--and betting-- was ruined. She had lost so many hands of Wicked Grace that she was stripped down to her breast band, and yes she had already lost her smallclothes. But it wasn’t Girls’ Night if someone wasn’t naked by the end of it. Leliana had lost her cowl. Josephine was a shark and had kept all of her ruffles, and had won most of Gemma’s clothes as well. 

Cassandra only once came to one of these events and was so mortified she vowed to never come back. Cassandra was upholding her vow tonight, and Vivienne said she had better things to do, but Sera was a regular, and the girls’ had agreed to let Dorian join them because he always had some good gossip and a salacious personal story to tell. Dorian had lost his shirt and Sera her leggings. Really though, Gemma was terrible at cards that night, no one as risky and unlucky as her.

“One more game!!” Gemma yelled, boisterous.

“Gemma, you are naked, for all intents and purposes. Give up,” Leliana teased her. “Your luck can’t be any worse.”

“Well that just means it has a chance of getting better!” Gemma pounded her fist on the table. “One more round, I want to win back my smallclothes, it’s a fair walk to my quarters.”

They were exasperated. But Josephine dealt. And Gemma lost. She took off the leather band around her breasts.

Sera clicked her tongue. “You got some nice goods there, Inquisitor.”

Gemma blushed fervently before yelling “One more round!”

“Gemma, no you have nothing left.”

“All or nothing! If I win this round I get all my clothes back but if I lose then you guys get to dare me!”

“Dare you to do anything?” Dorian asks salaciously.

Gemma was drunk and determined, and naked. Naked! She had never felt so comfortable around friends before, probably because she had never had friends. Life in the circle was rough. And she was proud that she wasn’t embarrassed of her naked form, usually being so modest, even though Sera and, maybe Josephine?, were ogling her. All this made her bold.

“Anything,” she declared. These people were her friends; they wouldn’t do anything to her that would hurt her. And come morning she would technically be their boss again.

“Hmm, there are so many possibilities,” Leliana teased, pretending to consider carefully.

“Ok, I’ve got one.” Dorain said. “You have to run around the garden naked, three times. What do you say?” He looked at the other women in the room.

“Fine by me, yeah. I’ll get to see those perky tits in action.” Sera teased.

“Potentially humiliating, but nobody around at this hour, which is bad for the dare but good the Inquisitor’s reputation, and that of the Inquisition, in the morning,” Josephine considered.

“We will be there and that is enough,” Leliana said.

“And if any of the night watchmen get a looksee, well I’d call it a morale boost!” Sera piped up. “Nothing like remembering that Andraste’s Herald and big time Inquisitor is nothing more than a flesh and blood woman at the end of the night, yeah?”

Gemma was about to become a whole lot more comfortable with her nudity, or at least she’d better be if she were to lose. And where’s the harm, no one really is around this late, it’d be fun, and kind of, well, hot.

Josephine dealt the cards. And Gemma lost woefully.

***

“Go on, into the throne room.” Dorian said.

“Someone else go first, see if anyone is there,” Gemma whined, contorting herself for a semblance of modesty.

“Oh give up trying to hide from us, everyone’s got a body. Relax.” Dorian said. “And no, you’re going first.”

Gemma stood straighter and dropped her arms from across her chest and uncrossed her legs, then cracked the door open to peek through. The throne room was dark, and graciously empty. Maybe this would be fun.

“Sera I can feel you staring at my arse.”

“Can’t deny what the Maker gave you,”

“Get going,” Leliana urged, laughing. Gemma hurried through the throne room and out the side door to the garden, also blissfully empty and dark. Even when the night’s watch walked by, they surely wouldn’t see anything. But oh, the cold. Her nipples instantly peaked, gooseflesh rising all over her body.

“Andraste it’s cold!”

“So get running,” Dorian said bluntly.

Gemma started to run.

* * *

Cullen was knelt in front of the statue of Andraste in the tiny cloister that housed Skyhold’s meager branch of the chantry. Unable to sleep or work due to withdrawal. He came here, hoping for solitude. Willing to try even prayer to will away the desire for lyrium, and the Inquisitor. He shamefully recalled his dream last night, which had bled through every waking thought that day. Holding her close, skin on skin, hot like a sunburn, hungry mouths, his mouth between her legs, holding her up against a wall as he pushed inside, her moaning. Oh Maker, he felt hot and ashamed all over again. And it had been like this all week. His careful resolve in the last months breaking away.

Nothing like church to chastise forbidden thoughts. And it did distract him, repeating excerpts from the Chant of Light. Remembering when he took his Templar vows, when he decidedly did not take a vow of celibacy as the Inquisitor had so shamelessly asked him. Meaning that his wanton desires to feel her arch and quiver under his touch, scream his name, were not entirely wrong, right? Ah Maker, blight it all, here we are again. It would be wrong. It would be inappropriate, the Inquisitor and the Commander. It simply never could be. He used this to console his other, deeper worries. What if she did not see him the same? What if this was some one-sided obsession and he was a fool and a creep?

No, it would be better if it were one-sided, better not to be tempted into corrupting the Inquisition, better to not have to actively turn down the thing he wanted most. And surely he wasn’t the only man obsessed with her; she was the Herald, the Inquisitor, who wouldn’t look upon her with admiration? And well, lust. Perhaps when Corypheus is put down, if they live that long, and if Gemma decides to disband the Inquisition, and if she hasn’t married someone else by then, then maybe Cullen can confess to her, and maybe she will see him the same way and they could finally be together. Maker’s breath, that was a lot of ifs, it was stupid to hold onto that notion, reckless even, but it was all that kept him going when he was consumed by affection for her. And if nothing happens, perhaps he can die defending her. His protective urges matched his affections. How it hurt to send her into battle without him all the time.

He trusted that she was capable, and yet, he would feel better if he knew he could be there, even just to take a blow for her.

The sound of slapping feet startled him out of his reverie. Someone is running barefoot at this hour. _What could compel them?_ he wondered.

Then he heard her voice. “Dorian you are wicked!” It echoed around the hallway, enclosed in stone. Cullen was immediately on his feet. Why was Gemma running barefoot about Skyhold at this hour? And what did Dorian do? He was so caught up in those protective urges that he failed to notice her tone was almost… gleeful. Her footsteps were even closer now. He threw open the door to the cloister and stepped out just in time for Gemma to smack into him bodily. He was strong enough to not be thrown off balance and instead caught her in his arms. As she fell to him, her entire body was flush against his, and that was when he realized her naked breasts were pushed up against his cold metal breastplate, and his gloves were holding the bare delicate skin of her back. He felt his face instantly blush, even hotter than when he thought about all those dirty fantasies and now here she was, literally in the flesh, and Oh Maker it was not helping the blushing.

He instantly averted his eyes.

Breathlessly she whispered, “Hello Cullen,” He could here shame color her voice and knew that she must be as red in the face or probably more than he was. The raucous laughter of Dorian, Leliana, Josephine, and Sera from down the hallway only intensified the moment. He made sure she was steady on her feet before he released her, turning away to respect her privacy as he undid his cloak and handed it to her. She gratefully wrapped it around her body, nuzzling into the fur around the collar to hide her face. And Maker, she must be cold. He flashed back to finding her near lifeless body in the snow after Haven. _Never again,_ he thought

“Boo!” Sera yelled. “You’re ruining the show!”

“Sera is right, Commander. The Inquisitor lost her clothes fair and square. She can’t get them back until she runs three laps round the garden.” Dorian yelled. Josephine and Leliana are in high spirits, laughing uncontrollably. Leliana must know how Cullen felt about the Inquisitor, nothing escaped her. His discomfort must be an unending source of amusement.

He looked down at Gemma, startled by how sexy she looked, wrapped only in his cloak, but forced down those thoughts before they could take hold.

“What happened?” He asked her quietly, gently. She was reluctant to meet his eyes out of mortification, but slowly met his gaze. Her eyes were shiny. She was drunk. O Maker, what antics she got up to, egged on especially by those fools.

“Umm, Lady Luck was not on my side at Wicked Grace tonight.”

“You know that you don’t have to keep betting, right?” He chuckled. Relief flooded her face. She must have been terrified at how he would judge her. That hurt his heart. Even though it was hard for him to let go and have fun, he didn’t want to stop her. Realized she needed to blow off steam as they prepared to fight an ancient magister darkspawn, and that the world was in her hands alone. While this was not the most appropriate way to have fun, he did not blame her for the situation she was pressed into, and would never think less of her, I mean he loved—whoa, he reigned in his thoughts like an unruly mare.

She smiled in a chagrined way. “Yes, but after I lost so much I thought, hey maybe I can at least win my tunic back.”

“We’ve all been there.” He smiled down at her, blight it all he must have been beaming, for the way she relaxed under his gaze; ooh it eased the withdrawal in a scary way. He couldn’t handle another addiction.

“Take that off and get runnin’!” Sera yelled. Leliana and Josephine wolf whistled in encouragement and Dorian clapped.

Cullen saw Gemma’s face instantly color over from shame again.

“Nope, this is over.” He declared. They booed and hissed. “Gemma, do you want to keep running?” he turned to ask her. She quickly shook her head no. “Yep this is over. Inquisitor, may I see you back to your quarters?” She nodded gratefully.

“Killjoy!” They heckled them. “A bet’s a bet! Watch out Gemma, he might not be there to save you next time!”

But Cullen had already put a protective hand on the small of her back and was leading her quickly and purposefully out of the cold and into the keep. Over his shoulder, he heard their jeers turn to good-natured laughing as Dorian said, quite smugly, “Well I rather think that worked.” _What worked?_ Cullen didn’t have time to ponder it. 

They walked up the dark aisle of the throne room, his hand never leaving the small of her back. Gemma was shocked silent so Cullen tried to put her at ease as they walked. 

“Really, I don’t know if you played Wicked Grace in your Circle in the Marches but here it is completely normal to lose everything, every last bit of cloth by the end of the night. Maker, I am not proud to say that I’ve been there three times. But it’s a rite of passage. Welcome to Ferelden.”

She chuckled. “Thank you Cullen. Did you know that Blackwall refuses to play with Solas because he had to walk back naked too many times? Sometimes I play with them but they’d rather give me their money than let me strip.” Cullen laughed, secretly relieved that she wasn’t naked with Blackwall all the time. He couldn’t deny the jealousy he felt toward those that could travel with Gemma beyond Skyhold.

“Seems they were doing you a disservice, let you get too bold.”

“Apparently so,” she laughed, her chagrin fading.

He realized they were at her door and he finally removed his hand, wondering if he should apologize for holding her just when she seemed to regret the loss of his touch, something in the set of her eyes that belied…disappointment? But no, he must be imagining things. But he wasn’t imagining how cold she looked, even wrapped in the warm fur of his cloak.

“Andraste, you’re blue with the cold. Do you need help starting a fire?”

She smiled sweetly. “Thank you Cullen, but I am a fire mage.”

“Ah right, how could I forget? Your magic is stunning.” He froze, realizing what he’d said, afraid he’d embarrassed himself, but she only smiled even sweeter.

“Thank you. Do you want to come inside though? I’m not sleepy and you mustn’t be either. Why are you up this late? Is it the withdrawal?”

She opened the door and started inside and up the stairs as she spoke, leaving him no choice but to follow, which might have been against his better judgment, especially as he realized how bear her thighs were, how much showed with each step she took, how creamy and round they were, he imagined holding them, kissing them, gently opening them, and oh Maker this thought had to stop now as he followed her into her private quarters, alone, in the middle of the night.

She snapped her fingers and a flame licked up into the hearth that was already set for a fire. Then she climbed under the quilts on her bed and hunkered down against the pillows, shivering. He would have given anything to climb under the covers with her and warm her with his body, his hands, his mouth, oh these thoughts were inexorable.

“Sit anywhere, bed’s fine too. I usually entertain on the balcony but I’m a little cold for that tonight.”

He sank down onto the sofa next to her bed. He didn’t want to take any chances with his carnal intrusive thoughts, especially since she was drunk. If anything ever did happen, Maker preserve him, he wanted it to be sober and real. 

“You haven’t answered yet. Are you doing ok?”

“Ah, well…” she startled him out of his reverie once again. He trailed off. 

“Cullen please be honest with me, I can’t help if you won’t let me try.” 

This startled him into honesty. “I don’t want to worry you, but yes, it’s the withdrawal. Too painful to sleep, even too painful to work. I thought a distraction might help.”

“Prayer is all well and good, but perhaps you need a more vibrant distraction. Tonight was Girls’ Night, but—“

“That’s what you call Girls’ Night?” he sounded incredulous.

“Well, yes, Girls’ Night plus Dorian—“

“Is that a typical Girls’ Night?”

“Well, yes. Cassandra quit coming after the first time.” They both laughed at that. He couldn’t help but notice that she was slurring her words ever so slightly, like trying to hide it but failing to control it. It reminded him to keep his distance.

“Well, you know I’m not really religious so the Chantry holds no comfort for me. I find relief in friends. There is comfort in being together. Will you spend time with us tomorrow? Come out to Dorian’s get-together? It will be fun, maybe you will find relief in friendship,” his face must have betrayed his uncertainty, “and if that doesn’t help then we’ll try something else.”

“I don’t know, Dorian _has_ been pestering me to go but there’s so much work to be done.”

“Cullen do you remember our conservation about not working yourself to death? I value you beyond what you can provide to the Inquisition. Value yourself as well.” Even now, she was, well, commanding. A leader, a superior giving an order, the way she held herself even covering up the drunken mixing of syllables. Her honest words nearly stopped his heart. Her tone changed, softened. “Please, Cullen, come for me?” He blushed realizing how many times he’d heard her say that in his dreams, only under entirely different circumstances. She must have realized what she said and amended it “to the party? Everyone will be happy to see you, especially Dorian, I know he admires you so—“

Cullen cut off her rambling. “For you, I would do anything,” he said, right from the heart. Realizing how exposed this made him, he amended with “Inquisitor,” as if he was simply duty bound to his superior and not madly in lov—Maker’s breath.

“I prefer it when you call me Gemma, at least outside of the war table and when we’re home,” she sighed as she sank back a bit on the pillows, defeated that he again failed to call her by her name. He always worried how the increased familiarity would affect him, but he couldn’t deny her.

“I’m sorry. I would do anything for you, Gemma.” Andraste preserve me, I can’t believe I just said that.

“Thank you,” she smiled and her defeated posture became relaxed, and then chagrined again, “And thank you for saving me from our friends. I hope you don’t think any less of me. It was reckless, and stupid and I should hold myself to a higher standard, what with being the Herald and the Inquisitor and the world on my shoulders and—“

“No, stop.” He stood up, cutting her off. “You’d have to do something much worse than run naked though the garden to make me think less of you. Frankly I don’t know if you’re capable of doing something that bad.” He sat next to her on the bed. “Just because I don’t know how to have fun doesn’t mean that I want you to be some stuffy symbol all the time. You should be having fun _especially_ because of all those things you just listed. To some people you may just be those titles, and perhaps it’s best if the masses only know you as those, but here in Skyhold, with our friends, you should be allowed to be a person. I’m glad to know you not only as the Herald/Inquisitor, but also as a woman.” He quickly realized how his earnestness had failed to prevent his carnal thoughts, “as a woman”? _I can’t believe I just said that._

“Oh so you think you know me as a woman just because you’ve seen the goods? There’s a lot more to _knowing_ someone,” she stressed the word, “than that,” she smiled flirtatiously at him. 

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Cullen chuckled, but inside he ached at all those ways he _didn’t_ know her and how often they weighed on his mind. Sure he dreamt of it a lot, but he could still tell reality from fantasy. He wasn’t that far gone with his lyrium withdrawal. “And I did not see _the goods_ as you so brazenly call it--”

“Sera’s words.”

“Why am I not surprised,” he muttered. “I did not see anything.”

“Liar.” She was bold, challenging him.

“Ok, I saw a little.” He confessed, chuckling.

“Did you like what you saw?” she batted her eyes. Cullen reminded himself that she was drunk and this was not an invitation or an indication that she was interested.

“I--, well--, I think that’s enough for tonight. You need sleep. War Council reconvenes early.” He diverted rather than answering. He couldn’t tell her how turned on he was to hold her against him, how the tops of her rounded breasts shone in the candle light from the cloister and reflected off his armor, how he wished he wasn’t wearing his blasted armor so that he could have felt her nipples hard against his chest, how he ached at the slip of her thighs from beneath his cloak, the satisfaction of seeing her in his clothes, stoking his possessive and dominant nature, like he had laid a claim to her, Maker no he couldn’t tell her any of that. He stood up to leave before he could get even more worked up.

“Fine, fine. I’m sorry for teasing you.” Ooh he was glad he didn’t say anything since she wasn’t being serious. He made to leave.

“That’s quite alright, Gemma.” He made eye contact as he said her name and he felt a tension swell between them. Her eyes bright, mouth parted in a relaxed smile, his fur cloak framing her face, chestnut hair mussed up on the pillows. He cleared his throat and turned around, feeling something else start to swell as well. _This is so inappropriate._

“Wait!” she called. It physically ached to hear her. He tried to control himself as he turned back. “What about your cloak?” She made to take it off, pulling it off one shoulder, nearly exposing her breast but the blankets barely covered her.

He couldn’t stand it. “No, you keep it tonight. You can give it back to me tomorrow.”

“Won’t you be cold?”

“No, I’m sturdier than that. And the armor is quite heavy. I shall be fine walking back.”

“Thank you, Cullen. Sleep well.” Her voice was low and open, words entirely heartfelt, and layered with sleep or seduction, he couldn’t tell but he knew how it affected him.

“I hope you sleep well too, Gemma.” Upon hearing her name, she smiled and sighed, fully relaxed and instantly fully asleep. In his cloak. Naked. Oh Maker he would not be sleeping for a while. He quietly left the room and hurried to his tower.


	2. Too Many Cooks in the Kitchen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen lets off some steam. Later at the party, everyones meddling leads to unintended consequences

Gemma woke the next morning, sometime well past daybreak, thirsty and fuzzyheaded. Very fuzzy in fact. She reached up to her face and felt the soft fur around her neck. She startled, suddenly alert, as she remembered what she was wearing, what had happened, and suddenly felt very, very embarrassed. But amidst all that, she felt a thrill in her chest as she luxuriated in being wrapped in Cullen’s cloak skimming over her naked breasts, loose over her soft thighs. She pressed her face into the fur. It smelled like him. What a rare pleasure. He rarely let her close enough. Perhaps that’s why she dreamt of him all night long. 

Of him kissing her lips, her neck, her chest, nipping along the way. Of ripping her clothes off and bearing her down, laid out on his desk. His mouth between her legs, inspiring moans and gasps, his hands on her breasts, until she begs him to enter her, to make love to her and--- oh no she was very, very wet. She quickly slipped out of his cloak, hoping she didn’t…get her juices on it. _Fuck that felt weird and embarrassing to think_. But it’d be even more embarrassing to hand him a cloak smelling of pussy and there was no time to wash it first.

Thankfully the cloak was dry, and smelled like her perfume and not her pussy. _Phew, that was a relief_. She knew by the intensity of the light that the War Council would be reconvening soon. She must hurry to get ready. And that would mean seeing her friends again. Seeing Cullen again after last night’s shame. She pressed her face into the pillow in dread. She vaguely remembered him assuaging her fears over what he thought of her, but Maker it was still embarrassing. Although, a part of her liked the knowledge that he had held her naked, hoped that it taunted him, got under his skin, that his dreams were as filthy as her own last night. But these were dangerous thoughts about a friend, colleague, and advisor. They couldn’t be allowed. So if she was not allowed to feel pride over what happened, that meant she must feel shame.

She dressed quickly, knowing the sooner she saw them and got it over with the sooner they could go back to normalcy. She hoped this didn’t negatively affect her relationship with Cullen. It seemed like it should only have brought them closer, but he was a difficult person to get close to. She threw his cloak over one arm and hurried for the War Room. It was only a few quick steps through the main hall but of course everyone was watching, they always were, and of course Cullen’s cloak was instantly recognizable by the tufts of fur on the collar. She couldn’t even begin to surmise all the assumptions they could make. She especially noticed Varric and Vivienne looking at her curiously from their respective haunts.

Gemma burst into the war room. She was late and everyone was waiting.

“Sorry I’m late! Cullen, thank you for letting me borrow this.” She held out the cloak to him, not quite able to meet his gaze. He smiled anyway, to put her at ease, and fastened it to his armor again.

“I’m surprised you made it here as soon as you did, you were quite the site for sore eyes last night,” Leliana teased.

“What can I say, Wicked Grace brings out the worst in some of us,” Gemma joked as she finally met Cullen’s gaze. She was relieved that there was no awkwardness, but meeting his gaze for too long did bring a familiar heat to her face, and was it reflected in his own?

After the meeting, Gemma caught up with Cullen. “Will I see you at lunch today?” she asked.

“Likely not, I’ll have to work through lunch if I’m going to have time to go out later.”

“You’re going?” her excitement was infectious; she watched a smile spread across his face.

“Yes, I promised you I would.”

“Ok then, promise me you’ll eat something for lunch, and save some work for tomorrow. The Inquisition will be okay if you take some time for yourself, Cullen.”

He looked surprised, then his expression softened into a sweet smile. “As you wish, Inquis-, As you wish, Gemma.”

She smiled and took the stairs two at a time to Dorian’s haunt in the library.

“Cullen agreed to come out tonight!” she shouted at Dorian, she was so excited, knew he would be as well.

“Inquisitor please keep it down, this translation is tedious,” Solas called from the first floor.

“Sorry Solas! Are you coming to the party later?” Gemma called down over the railing.

“Only if it would make you that excited.” Solas smugly taunted her.

Gemma blushed furiously.

“Relax, Inquisitor. I have no interest in your drinking parties. May you have fun.” Solas turned back to his studies.

Then Dorian came over to the railing to call down as well. “You only say you have no interest in drinking with us because you were such a light weight last time.”

“I was not!” Solas protested, cheeks hot.

“Bull carried you home after you threw up.” Dorian gloated.

Gemma stood up for him. “Yeah but a drop of Bull’s stuff is enough to get a horse drunk, that doesn’t make Solas a lightweight.” 

“Thank you, Inquisitor.”

“Enough!” Leliana called down from the top floor. “Solas gets tipsy after one and a half glasses of wine and he should have known better than to drink with The Iron Bull. Now quit shouting, you’re waking the birds.”

Gemma, Dorian, and Solas nodded like scolded children. Solas buried himself in his translation, face burning as Dorian and Gemma retreated back into the reading nook.

“So Cullen is coming out tonight, excellent! Seems all our old workaholic needs is a flash of skin to change his ways.”

“Dorian!” Gemma chided him, cheeks hot. “It’s not like that at all!” 

“He played the real knight in shining armor role last night, didn’t he? Saving your drunk behind.” Dorian waggled his eyebrows suggestively. 

“I suppose so,” Gemma’s blush turned darker before she could deflect. “But you were wicked Dorian. Without you I might not have needed saving.”

“Quite right. So he walked you to your room and… did he come inside?” Dorian smiled wickedly again.

Gemma faltered. “Y-yes,” she fidgeted with a lock of hair avoiding his eyes. “But nothing happened!” she was quick and vehement in her assertions.

Dorian rolled his eyes so hard he thought they’d just come back around again. _That set-up was perfect. What’s holding them back?_ “Worry not, birdy. I believe you.”

* * *

 

Cullen burned with shame anew after what transpired the night before. Maker, how did he start with trying to purge her from his thoughts with the will of the Maker to being incapacitated by his desire for her within an hour?

As he walked back to his tower from her room, Cullen was thrumming with every vision in every vivid dream he’d had that week and now was come undone by his desire in the flesh. He always thought her carved of marble, our staunch inquisitor. Walks the Fade and lives. Confronts a blighted god and an avalanche and crawls her way back to them the same night. She was tough, she was beautiful, she was unattainable. She was marble. But now he knew he was wrong. Now he knew she was warm and soft, capable of folly, embarrassment. She was flesh, she was blood. She was a woman. And he was a man. And oh, how her nipples were pink.

He resolutely locked the tower door behind him and checked the others, his cock straining against his breeches. He fumbled with the laces over his bulge until he mercifully sprang free. One arm propping him against the desk, he took himself in hand and slowly stroked up and down. There was no room for shame or second thoughts when he moaned like he did now. Wiping away the large bead of precum, he began to stroke faster, imagining those perky tits, those rosy peaks, taut with the cold.

He imagined her wearing nothing but his cloak, perching on his desk in front of him. His rough hands caress her delicate thighs and she giggles at his touch, relaxing. The cloak slips off one shoulder, bearing that breast, and he kisses her as his hand skims up her body to cup her breast. The nipple is hard and cool to the touch but warms quickly as he pinches. She moans and pulls him closer. The cloak slips off her other shoulder to pool around her waist and she parts her thighs and yanks him closer, to her core.

She undoes his breeches and he is free, free to push inside her warm and slick pussy, and she moans his name. He pumped his cock faster and harder along with his vision, thrusting with his hips until he came fast and hard, and entirely too soon for where that fantasy was going. He reveled in the sensation as thick ropes of cum hit the stone behind his desk. His hand slowed as the ecstasy turned to overstimulation, and he slumped into his chair. Then came the shame.

***

When she returned his cloak in the morning, it smelled like her. Like sandalwood and lavender. It only stoked the carnal feelings he was repressing. He considered how much more satisfying jacking off about her would be now that he had her scent on his cloak. Cullen, understandably, was worried about seeing her at the party later. What alcohol would do to his restraint. He considered staying home, but couldn’t bear to disappoint her after how happy he looked earlier. _Surely the right thing to do isn’t also the thing that would make her sad. That wouldn’t be fair…_

Cullen mulled these thoughts of right and wrong as he took the stairs down to the tavern. He was late, but apparently that’s fashionable in Orlais. But Cullen and Orlais had nothing in common. Cullen just had anxiety.

The main room of the tavern had been closed off for the inner circle. Because he was late, the party was in full swing and everyone was reasonably tipsy. Vivienne and Leliana seemed to be discussing something very important and very secretive. They were obviously in cahoots. Blackwall and Bull were laughing their heads off over a bawdy joke while Dorian leaned on the bar for support as he argued with Solas, who was just as tipsy and needed Cole’s help to stand, which Varric and Sera found to be uproariously funny. Josephine and Cassandra were chatting animatedly about something, and there in the middle of it all, was Gemma. She seemed to be getting in on the fight between Solas and Dorian, must be about magic. Solas started to gesticulate wildly, pulling away from Cole and falling onto Gemma for support, she started to buckle under his weight, Maker she must be tipsy as well, and Cullen jumped in to support her and keep them both upright.

With the main source of entertainment interrupted, everyone shifted to look at Cullen, holding Gemma holding Solas. Cullen never liked the spotlight. Cole grabbed Solas and Cullen let go of Gemma, trying not to think about how her hair smelled, or how close she had been in his arms.

“Looks like the gang’s all here,” Dorian drawled. “Cabot, pour this man a drink!” 

Leliana and Josephine started up their respective conversations again, trying to take the heat off Cullen but they couldn’t hide that everyone was _this_ surprised to see him being social.

“And another one for Gemma!” Sera called, smacking Gemma’s empty glass onto the counter.

“Buttercup, I don’t know about that. Hey Emerald, do you wanna nother drink?” Varric stepped in.

“Yeah, why not?” Gemma giggled, her green eyes that lent her nickname widening in giddy excitement.

“Sooooooo, now that everyone is **finally** here, let’s play a game!” Sera called.

“Yessss!” Gemma almost vibrated with excitement. “Let’s play a game!”

No one could really turn her down, and the pair wouldn’t take no for an answer. Everyone crowded around.

“Ok Sera, what should we play?”

“We’re playing spin the bottle.” Sera said with a shit-eating grin.

Gemma was scandalized. “Sera! We’re not playing that!”

“Relax, it’s for drinking mostly. Though does make me wonder how you used to play in the circle…”

* * *

The game started out fun enough, everyone trying to get their spins to land on Bull or Cullen seeing as they were the most sober. This wasn’t working out so well for Gemma, though, sitting in between them. More often than not they landed on her. She felt the room starting to spin much like the bottle. But Cullen kept her anchored. She relished in their close proximity, their thighs brushing under the table. If she leaned close enough, she was sure she could smell him again. Dorian’s fancy spirits were really going to her head, she couldn’t focus on anything but Cullen without feeling queasy, and she felt distinctly hot and bothered. This was a terrible combination.

Varric must have seen her looking green so he called out for everyone to quit targeting her. The drinking spread more evenly and Gemma regained a bit of her faculties, or maybe everyone else lost theirs and simply just matched her level. 

This was when Sera decided to make it interesting. “This next one will be for a kiss!”

Gemma gasped. What if she got to kiss Cullen? What if he didn’t want to kiss her? What if she embarrassed herself? _This could go very, very badly._

Dorian frowned; it was his turn to spin.

The bottle froze on Bull.

“Well the Vint and the Qunari! C’mere Dorian,” Bull said and smooched him. Dorian blushed and giggled before coughing into his fist to hide his mouth and give him a moment to compose himself.

It was Bull’s turn to spin. “So Sera, what’s this one going to be?”

“This one is also for a kiss.”

“Fine by me,” Bull did a long blink that Gemma thought was supposed to be a wink since his other eye was hidden behind the patch. The bottle landed on Cassandra.

“Maker’s breath!” Cassandra was scandalized. “Me, kiss the qunari?”

“C’mon Cassandra, you know you want to.” Bull puckered up and leaned over the table.

“Y’know Seeker, this reminds me of a scene I’m thinking of putting in the next installment of _Swords and Shields_.”

Cassandra turned beet red but sighed and nodded. “Alright.” She leaned forward for the quickest peck before pulling away and settling back in her seat, refusing to make eye contact. Everyone gave a good-natured giggle.

Next it was Gemma’s turn. She felt like the whole room could hear her heart pounding; she felt she might be sick.

Gemma looked at Sera as if she was the executioner, deciding which method to kill her with. Gemma held her breath, hoping to contain the nausea.

“This one is for seven minutes in heaven,” Sera proudly called out, and seemed to wink at Dorian?

Gemma spun, and the bottle froze on Cullen. They were sitting so close she could feel him tense. _Oh no, he doesn’t want this_. Everybody laughed and herded them, protests and all, into the broom closet behind the bar. They didn’t even have a candle as they were shut in the darkness.

It should have been sexy, to feel Cullen just inches away from her in the dark, small space, to be able to feel the heat of his breath on her forehead, the tension in his muscles. But instead she just felt claustrophobic. She remembered being locked in trunks by the other mages as a child, the fear of darkness, of being trapped, of not being able to breathe. And now she was in here, with the spins, and the man she loved and really didn’t want to puke on.

“Gemma, I’m sorry we’re in this position. We don’t have to do anything. I wish I could give you more personal space.” Cullen sounded strained.

All Gemma heard was that he wasn’t interested in her, didn’t want to be this close to her. She groaned as the nausea threatened to overwhelm her. She hated this tight awful space.

“Gemma, are you alright?”

“I don’t feel so good.” Gemma crouched on the floor, back slumped against the wall.

Cullen knelt down to her level, his face was very close to hers for lack of space, and he delicately laid a hand on her cheek, so gentle, so reassuring, so…loving. Gemma couldn’t begin to sort out her confusions.

“Cullen, we’re friends right?”

“Of course we are, Gemma.”

“Would you say we are close?”

“Yes, and not just in proximity,” he chuckled and it brought a weak smile to her face.

“I want us to be friends, I want you to like me, but I keep embarrassing myself in front of you.” Gemma was starting to ramble drunkenly.

“You’re very important to me, Gemma. There’s no need to feel embarrassed. I…should like us to spend more time together. You’ve been away so much after the chess match, we haven’t had a chance.”

Gemma felt her heart soar, or maybe it was just the alcohol in her stomach.

“Oh, good,” was all she managed to say before she scrabbled for the closet door just in time to open it and puke all over the floor behind the bar.

* * *

Dorian was furious. After Gemma flung the door open, puking, everyone kicked into high gear. Vivienne was quick with a glass of water, snapping an order for the servants to start cleaning up. Cullen was rubbing Gemma’s back as Bull stepped in to take her up to bed, saying he knew how to deal with her like this. “It’s always like this after a dragon,” he laughed nostalgically. Bull swooped up Solas on his other shoulder and carried the drunks up into the Keep. Cullen excused himself shortly after.

Once the tavern was clean, the yelling started.

“Why did you encourage her to drink so much?!” Vivienne rounded on Sera.

“Yes, Sera. When have you ever had a successful date when you were stinking wasted?!” Dorian demanded.

“Hey! It’s not my fault! You guys were the ones who kept landing spins on her. Dorian, why didn’t you use your stupid cold magic to stop the bottle on other people more often like you did to snog Bull?”

Dorian blushed and was starting to prepare an angry response when Josephine stepped in.

“I don’t know what any of you were thinking! This was supposed to be a chance for them to socialize in a safe environment and look what you made it into! Dorian, you have embarrassed her two nights in a row! We’ll be lucky if she can look him in the eye for the next two weeks and now we’ll all have to deal with both of them sulking.”

“I expected better from you, my dear.” Vivienne shook her head.

“Yeah guys, I don’t know if alcohol and tricks and games is the way for these two. You know Curly is Mr. Self-Control. But I think we can agree that we really humped the nug on this one by all trying to interfere. We need to go slowly, and one plan at a time.”

“Wise words, Varric.” Leliana intervened before anyone could launch into a new defense. “Let’s get them talking again and then give them a break.”

Dorian sighed. "I don't know what's worse, the pining or the sulking." 

Leliana scoffed. "You should see the war table. But all in good time, Dorian, all in good time."

**Author's Note:**

> I had a lot of fun writing this, hope you enjoyed!


End file.
